


I dreamed a dream

by Ishxallxgood



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a perceived happy ending, Heavy Angst, I feed off the tears of my readers, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing, Why must I hurt my boys so?, i dreamed a dream, there is a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/pseuds/Ishxallxgood
Summary: The year is now 2021, and Phichit is sitting in an empty hotel room in Paris (because that's where the 2021 GPF will be held because I'm a bitch) cold December rain pouring in as he sits on the balcony the night after the competition where he finished 4th, a bottle of Veuve Clicquot in one hand a crumpled wedding invitation in the other.He reminisces about a time long ago. A time when he was young and unafraid.  Of when love was blind and life a song, and that song exciting...





	I dreamed a dream

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't mean to write this fic. It's an angst monster. You have been warned. 
> 
> I mean to write something light and fluffy. This is a present to Ara who won my "guess the three references" game on chapter 47 of [Re: Yuri Katsuki](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9410273/chapters/26586012)
> 
> This fic is by no means a sequel to that fic, so I repeat, THIS FIC HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH RE: YURI KATSUKI. This is a stand alone one-shot because I'm a horrible human being. 
> 
> With that said, I hope you enjoy this, because I for one LOVE me a good cry.

Adjusting the bottle of champagne, Phichit slumped back into his chair before taking out his phone and properly framing the picture.  It was one of his better ones, if he did say so himself, the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the background, centered but out of focus and blurred by the falling rain, the 2010 bottle of Veuve Clicquot la Grande Dame taking the focus as it should.

2010.

What a year. The year he had first landed in Detroit and his dreams began. Oh, what a dream that had been.

 

_ “Hi, I'm Phichit Chulanont and I'm going to be the man who puts Thailand on the map for figure skating. _ ”

 

Phichit let out a dry laugh as he lifted the bottle off the table and tilted its contents into his mouth. 

Ten years.

What had he achieved in ten years? One Grand Prix Finals bronze, a handful of medals at Four Continents, none of them gold. Two bronze and one silver at World's, but only because Yuri Plisetsky had been going through a rough patch of puberty that one year and Victor had finally retired. He didn't even manage to make it onto the podium at PyeongChang back in 2018, although he was close, and hopefully he’d be able to bring home some hardware come February, in Beijing.

What he wouldn't give to go back to sixteen, back to a time when the ice was kind and inviting. When the world was a song, and that song was exciting. 

Taking another swig of champagne from the bottle, Phichit ignored the dinging of his phone alerting him of the messages he was currently missing. He didn't have to look at them to know that they were from Yuuri, undoubtedly a response to the picture he had just posted. 

Another dry laugh escaped him as he mentally noted how the tables had turned. Six years ago he would have been the one texting Yuuri; insisting that fourth place, or in Yuuri's case that year, sixth place, was still better than the hundreds of skaters who hadn't even qualified for the Grand Prix Finals. That he should be proud of his accomplishments and get out, have some fun, live a little. 

This had nothing to do with his placement though. 

He knew better than to scoff at fourth. He was proud of his fourth place. He was proud of the way he skated today. Proud of the advancements he's made. Proud that he was only a fraction of a point away from knocking JJ Leroy off the podium. He'd get his medal at Four Continents again this year, hopefully a silver, because he knew there was no way of beating Yuuri Katsuki out for gold, not unless something tragic were to happen, and he would never wish that upon his best friend. Hell he would never wish that upon his enemy, not that he had any because come on now, he was Phichit Chulanont and everyone loves Phichit Chulanont. World’s would be trickier, little Yuri Plisetsky was not so little anymore, and he had the strength and grace to rival the mighty Victor Nikiforov, although he was still years away from coming anywhere close to Yuuri. 

He had to admit it though, over the years the ice had turned cold and unforgiving, and he finally understood what it felt like to be that jilted lover. The funny thing about that was, it wouldn't even have mattered if he had won gold. In fact, it wouldn't even have mattered if he was a five time consecutive gold medalist who broke all the world records; this much he knew from first hand experience. In the end, the ice consumed them all.

The thing was, he should have known better. 

He should have known better than to toss his life and love away for a dream which could not be. He should have known that the dream that love would never die and that the ice would be forgiving, was nothing more than a mirage. 

What he wouldn't give to go back five years, undo all the mistakes he had made. Go back to a time when hope was high and life worth living. He had believed back then that he was free to dream, that there would be no ransom to be paid.  That he could dream that dream with a freedom to leave no song unsung, no wine untasted. Unfortunately everything in life came with a price, and the price he had to pay was love.

 

_ “Chris… I can't do this anymore.” _

_ A soft sigh escaped Christophe as he sat up and pulled Phichit into his arms, away from the edge of the bed he was moving toward. _

_ “What's this all about lapinou?” The man whispered softly in his ear. _

_ “Nothing. Everything.” Phichit breathed as he attempted to wriggle out of the embrace. “It's too much.” _

_ “What's too much?” _

_ “You. Us.” Breaking free, Phichit grabbed his clothes from the floor, hastily pulling them on before turning back to face Christophe. “Everything. I need to focus.” _

_ “I'm sorry lapinou, I can dial things back a bit if it's all too overwhelming, I just thought… after this past summer…” _

_ Phichit let out a heavy sigh as he took a seat at the edge of the bed, pulling one of Christophe's hands into his own despite his better judgement. “Don't be.” He sighed. “Sorry that is. It's not you...” _

_ Christophe jerked his hand out of Phichit's, letting out a scoff as he pushed himself off the bed. “You literally just said I was too much.” _

_ Deflating Phichit ran a hand through his hair smoothing it down. Yes, he did, but he didn't mean it like that. _

_ “You as an entity…” he gestured vaguely before dropping his head into his hands. “It's not anything you did… you're perfect. This summer was perfect, five minutes ago was perfect… but…” _

_ “But?” Christophe asked, raising an eyebrow as he pulled on a silk robe. _

_ “It's an Olympic year Chris…” Phichit mumbled into his hands. “You know how much this means to me. I can't fuck this up. I  _ **_need_ ** _ to ensure Thailand has a spot... I need to focus.” _

_ “You can still do all that… I'm not  _ **_that_ ** _ distracting.” _

_ Looking up from his hands Phichit rolled his eyes at Christophe, his stare settling on incredulous. “Chris… we literally just had sex…” _

_ Smirking Christophe settled down next to him, draping an arm around his shoulders. “Yes. And?” _

_ “Three times! And… and we both have to skate tomorrow!” Phichit declared, pushing Christophe off of him as he came to a stand again, grabbing his phone off the nightstand before crossing the room. _

_ “Good bye Chris.” He said, with one hand on the door as he looked back one last time.  _

_ “Lapinou… you don’t mean that.” _

_ “I do Chris. You know I do.” Phichit replied with a conviction in his eyes that he knew cut Christophe straight down to the heart.  “See you around.” _

_ As the door slowly closed behind him, Phichit heard Christophe scramble across the room, calling his name. _

 

Gulping down the last of the champagne, he tossed the bottle aside and grabbed at a fresh one. To hell with true love and soulmates. It was such a ridiculous notion anyway, who the heck still believed in such things nowadays? 

_ Victuuri _ . 

Well fuck Victuuri and their perfect love.

Popping the cork off his second bottle of Veuve Clicquot, he took a long drought before glaring down at the wedding invitation clutched in his left hand.

 

_ The honor of your presence is requested _

_ at the marriage of _

_ Christophe Pierre Giacometti _

_ and _

 

His fist tightened, the heavy shimmering cardstock crumpling in his hand as he fought the urge to scream.  

A crack of thunder broke through the silence of the room, the lightning flashing, momentarily lighting up the sky, breaking him from his trance.    

Five years.

He had made the man wait five years, and now the tigers come at night, with their voices soft as thunder, to tear all hope apart, to turn his dreams to shame.

One summer of bliss, filled with endless wonder.  It was all he had afforded them.  He had hoped, he had dreamed it would be enough.

It was a little bit funny, really.  Thinking back on things, on the words he said, the choices he made.  He could have had it all.  It was just one year, one season, but that one season turned to two, and by the time two turned to three, Christophe had already retired.  

If he was being honest with himself, he should have done something about it then.  But he was still young and unafraid back then.  Believing, dreaming, that one day, one day they would reunite, and spend the rest of their years together.

What a goddamn fool he had been, to believe that Christophe would continue to wait for him, when he gave the man no indication that he was ever coming around. 

He really had nobody to blame but himself. He should have known that selling his soul for the ice would amount to nothing. That he was broken and empty, and without his other half, the ice would always be cold and bitter.

He knew better. 

He had been there when Victor first figured it out. He had seen for himself the difference it made for Yuuri. He _ knew _ , but still he had chosen to turn away.

Yuuri had tried to tell him, last year when they had run into Christophe at World's, but it was another Olympic qualifying year, and he told himself he had to focus. The year before, Victor had invited him on a trip to the Swiss Alps, but he told himself that he was finally fulfilling his lifelong dream by working on the choreography for  _ Phichit on ice _ . The year before that, when Christophe had just retired and Yuuri tried to tell him the time was now, but he told himself it wasn't fair to ask Christophe to uproot his life and come join him in Thailand.

He had excuse after excuse ready, and the truth was, he was scared. He was scared that he was wrong, that giving in to one dream would mean the death of another. He had never expected his fears to come true the way they did. He had never realized that by pursuing the ice he was freezing his heart.

God, he was so stupid. 

A knock on the door broke him from his self loathing, but he chose to ignore it. No doubt it was Yuuri on the other side, and if it was Yuuri, he had a keycard.

Taking a drink from the bottle, he turned to face the door, waiting for the inevitable click before the door swung open. Yuuri gave him an apologetic smile before taking a seat next to him, relieving him of the bottle to pour himself a glass.

They sat there together in silence, passing the bottle back and forth, as volumes were spoken between them without a single word being uttered.

“You do know why Victor gave you that right?” Yuuri finally said, when the champagne was gone and Phichit made no indication that he was going to speak first.

Phichit shrugged as he threw the invitation across the balcony.  “Because my soulmate is marrying another man?”

“Phichit…” Yuuri said with a heavy sigh.  “It’s because Chris is making a huge mistake. Victor knows it, I know it,  _ you _ know it.”

“Who am I to stop him if he’s happy?” Tipping the empty bottle back Phichit frowned at it before placing it onto the table.  “Yuuri…”

Yuuri remained silent as Phichit threw his arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder, allowing him to grieve the way he needed to.  Phichit clung to him as he slowly came to terms with the fact that there are some dreams that simply cannot be, some storms he was just not meant to weather.

When his sobs finally subsided, he could feel Yuuri let out a sigh before his hands stilled, ceasing the gentle circles he had been tracing on Phichit’s back.

“Phichit…” Yuuri said softly, a hand trailing up his back until it rested lightly on his hair.  “You do realize that Chris isn’t happy right?  He’s lonely and desperate and missing his other half.”

Phichit let out a scoff as he rubbed his face against Yuuri’s shoulder, mumbling, “but he’s getting married.”

“Yes… But only because he  _ believes _ this will make him happy.  It won’t.  He’s settling and he knows it.”

Lifting his head Phichit pulled away from Yuuri and frowned, his brows furrowing as he sank back into the chair.  “So what?  I’m suppose to just run in there and be like ‘ _ STAP, I KNOW I BROKE YOUR HEART BUT THIS IS A MISTAKE!? _ ’”

“Uh, yea?”

Phichit rolled his eyes at his friend before crossing his arms defiantly.  “Yuuri.  That’s not socially acceptable and you know it.”

A small grin broke out across Yuuri’s lips as he gave Phichit a playful shove.  “And when have you ever been socially acceptable.”

“Yuuri…” Phichit whined, in a tone that could have rivaled Victor at his worst, “don’t be mean.  I’m  _ always _ socially acceptable.”

“Sure you are.” Yuuri replied with a chuckle.  “Just like how you’re the epitome of  _ innocence _ .”

“I have yet to be proven otherwise.”

“Right.” Yuuri said coming to a stand.  “Whatever you say.  Come on, let’s go.”

Phichit stared at Yuuri’s outstretched arm in confusion.  “Go where?”

“Downstairs.”

The words  _ to Christophe _ was left unsaid, but Phichit read them loud and clear in his eyes.

Reluctantly, Phichit allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, stumbling as the bottle and a half of champagne caught up with him. “Yuuri… he slept a summer by my side…”

“Yes I know,” Yuuri said as he steadied him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “And he filled those days with endless wonder.”

“He took my childhood in his stride…” Phichit sighed before squeezing his eyes shut, gripping Yuuri's arm as he fought back the tears. “But I was gone when autumn came.”

Patient as ever, Yuuri stood silently by his side, supporting him as he worked through his emotions.

“Yuuri,” he managed to finally choke out. “I had a dream my life would be… so different from this hell I'm living… so different now from what it seemed…”

“I know.” Yuuri whispered. “And this is why I'm here. I can't do this anymore Phichit. I can't stand by and watch you destroy yourself anymore. This is not you. This is not the Phichit we all know and love.”

“But…” 

“No more excuses Phichit.” Yuuri said sternly. “Victor and I should have stepped in years ago, but we figured the two of you knew what you were doing…”

“Yuuri… how do I make this right?” Phichit sobbed.

“Perhaps you could start with ‘I’m sorry.’”

A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Phichit as Yuuri pulled them toward the bathroom.  “But… but what if it’s too late to say sorry?”

“Then at least you’ll have closure.” Yuuri said, turning on the faucets, testing the water before running a wash cloth through it. “Either way, you don't know unless you try.”

Phichit stilled as he caught his reflection in the mirror. He was a hot mess, and Yuuri was right. He had to at least try. He owed himself that much, he owed Christophe that much. Silently thanking Yuuri for the towel, he wiped it across his face, washing away all his tears and spilt champagne. Squeezing some gel into his hand, he swept his hands through his hair and artfully fixed it before grabbing for his eyedrops and eyeliner. 

His heart was hammering in his chest again by the time they made it downstairs to the hotel bar, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it.  But when he caught sight of Christophe sitting there, a drink in his hand and a smile which did not reach his eyes, Phichit knew he had to carry through with his apology. 

Letting out a sigh he allowed Yuuri to guide them into the mostly empty bar, and for a second he was transported back in time.  Back to 2016, Barcelona. The time and place where his heart first beat in sync with another. 

Oh what he wouldn't give to be able to go back to that time and tell his younger self to not fuck this up. That he could search the whole world over, and there would never, ever be someone who completed him the way Christophe did.  That no dream was worth selling the other half of your soul for.

As if on cue, Victor glanced their way the moment Yuuri cleared the threshold, a sympathetic smile crossing his lips as he tossed back his drink and gave Christophe a firm squeeze on his shoulder. 

“Udači, Phichit.” Victor said as he draped an arm around Yuuri's shoulders and they exited the room together.

Sucking in a breath Phichit took a step forward, closing the distance between him and Christophe, pausing when he was about an arm's reach away. He refused to move any closer, knowing he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he did.  Every fiber of his being begged him to just touch the man, to erase all that pain years of separation had wrought.

“Chris…” Phichit finally said with a bated breath.  “I’m sorry.”

Christophe’s shoulders stiffened, and the soft clink of a glass connecting with the bar was the only response he got. It was about as much as he expected, but even so it hurt.

It hurt so much more than he could ever have imagined. Yuuri was wrong. The rejection didn't bring closure, only pain. And in that moment he could feel the reality of his situation choking the life out of his dreams. It was too much, being this close yet so far away. 

“Fuck.” He breathed out between gritted teeth. “This was a mistake. I'm sorry Chris… just… I'll see-”

“Stop.” Christophe interrupted, his voice low and hoarse. “Don't you dare finish that sentence, Phichit.”

Phichit flinched as the chair scraped the floor and Christophe came to a stand, dull eyes bearing into his soul. 

“Five years, Phichit.” he spat, a hand gripping the back of the chair as he tried to calm himself down. “I’ve lived with those words swimming in my head for five years. I'll be damned if I have to hear them again.”

“I…” Phichit stammered as Christophe closed the distance between them, green eyes never leaving his. He fought the urge to apologize again, his shoulders burning as Christophe deflated and his hands came to rest heavy upon them.

“Did you really think I would just let you walk away again?” Christophe let out a heavy sigh, fingers finding their way up the base of Phichit’s neck and tangling into his hair. “Let you leave again, without a trace? When I stand here taking every breath… with you…?  Goddamn it Phichit! How could you just walk away from me, when all I could do was watch you leave? We’ve shared the laughter and the pain… we even shared the tears… don’t you understand that you're the only one... who really knew me at all.”

Dropping his head, Phichit broke the eye contact and swallowed down a sob. “I'm so sorry…”

“Take a look at me now…” Christophe said softly, gently pulling on Phichit’s hair until he lifted his head up. “I'm just an empty space… and you coming back to me… was against the odds…”

“I meant to.” Phichit choked out, the tears leaking out from his eyes. “Right after PyeongChang… I meant to… but then I got swept away with life… and… and then a year passed… and then two...”

“Hush lapinou,” Christophe whispered as he wiped the tears from Phichit’s eyes and pulled him against himself.  “You’re going to ruin your eyeliner.”

Phichit let out a strangled laugh as he clung to Christophe, terrified that if he were to let go the floor would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. “Oh there’s so much I need to say to you… so many reasons why…” Phichit mumbled into his chest.  “You’re the only one who really knew me at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Udači - Good luck


End file.
